Chapter 1
Jagger
Present Day
“ A re you going to be back for dinner, or would you like me to make you a plate?” Nana asked as she handed me a glass of lemonade.
I took a swallow and the cold, tart liquid quenched my thirst. Placing the glass onto the small kitchen table, I waited for her to take her seat before I answered.
“I’ve got to help Roughstock at the stock show for the next couple days, so don’t worry about making me a plate.”
“You promise you’ll eat something besides pizza or a burger? Something with actual vegetables?”
I smiled over at her and took her hand into mine. The skin was thin but soft, and I carefully placed a kiss onto it. “I promise. Cheyenne is going to bring food from the ranch, and she insists Trent eat well.”
I made sure to use the brothers’ real names when I spoke to Nana. She thought our road names were ridiculous, even though she seemed partial to the one chosen for me over a decade ago. Nitro, Trent’s father and our former president who was murdered, took a liking to me when I prospected, and on the day I got my patch, he honored me with the name ‘Jagger’.
When I asked him about his choice, he explained that I was greater than I gave myself credit for, and I reminded him of Mick Jagger of The Rolling Stones. I didn’t understand what he meant by that, but I never brought it up again. If he thought the name fit me, then I would abide by his bequest.
Trent joked it was because of my long tongue and my love of going down on a woman. It wasn’t a secret I loved to feel a woman come undone on my tongue, so the name helped me bed a few eager chicks through the years.
“How are Trent and Cheyenne doing? I know all this mess with his father has been tough on them both,” Nana said, and I offered what I hoped was a reassuring smile.
“They’re hanging in there. With the new club name and everything that goes with it, they’ve been busy, but I think things are starting to settle down.”
I didn’t want to tell her that every night after I leave here, I go home and spend hours searching for the traitor, Blur. There had to be a reason why our National President said he was off limits, and I swore I would get to the bottom of it.
Blur took our former president away from us, but personally, he took a father figure from me. Nitro saw something in me that I still didn’t understand, and he managed to calm the animal inside me that had been begging to be set free to destroy. He gave me a family, a purpose, and when he asked me to become the club’s Sergeant at Arms, I was honored.
Yes, I could have taken a higher role in the club after Nitro died, but I was happy protecting the club and making sure no more traitors snuck into our midst. I blamed myself for not seeing Blur’s true colors before Nitro lost his life, and I refused to make that mistake again. If I suspected someone was there to cause trouble, I dealt with them before they became an issue.
The clock in the kitchen chimed, and I glanced at it, seeing it was almost eleven in the morning. I’d come over early to get her yard cut and her trash gathered into my pickup truck before I disappeared for a few days. The stock show and rodeo was an annual event that brought cowboys, buckle bunnies, and all manner of farmers and cattle ranchers to Rapid City, and it was the time when Roughstock’s farm needed the most help.
Nitro had grown the ranch into over a thousand acres. On the land, they ran buffalo and cattle, and closer to the house, they had horse paddocks where they bred and rehabilitated horses. The money Roughstock made during the ten days of the stock show covered the farm’s expenses for the entire year, plus put tons of money into the club’s coffers, so all the brothers pitched in to help.
Someone would come by and check on all the ol’ ladies and kids, which included retired brothers, their families, and, of course, Nana. We didn’t have many enemies, but striking at our families was the quickest way to hurt us, so when we patched over to SRMC, we made sure to put protections in place.
I didn’t want to be worried about Nana, and having a prospect check on her twice a day meant I could focus on what I needed to do to help Roughstock.
“Will you ask Cheyenne to stop by when she has a few minutes? She asked me about some old patterns, and I found them when I was going through the boxes you brought from storage.”
“Do you need me to get some more before I go, or are you still working through the ones I brought inside?” I asked, and she smiled as she patted my hand.
“I’ve got plenty to keep me busy until you get done with the stock show. Don’t worry so much about me, Lincoln. I’m doing okay.”
I still worried. Since losing Pappy to a sudden heart attack, I’d worried about Nana. They got married when she was eighteen and he was barely nineteen. They had my mother but never wanted any more kids, and with most of her friends either deceased or moved away, I worried about her being here in this big house alone. She insisted she could handle everything, but I took care of what I could to lessen her load.
Because if I lost her, I’d be all alone in the world.
Pushing those heavy thoughts off to the side, I stood from my seat and glanced at the clock before turning back to Nana. “I’ve got to get going, but one of the prospects will be by before dark to see if you need anything.” Leaning over, I placed a kiss on her cheek and stood up to ask, “Can you promise you won’t feed them every time they stop by?”
She smiled sweetly at me and replied, “Nope. They help me, and I bake for them. It works, and the boys love my cookies.”
I knew it was fruitless to ask, but I had to at least try. “I’m going to lock up behind me, but if you need me, have them call and I’ll be on my way.”
She pushed off from her seat, and I could see the discomfort as she straightened up. I tried to help her, but she cut her eyes at me, silently telling me to let her do it herself. I held my hands in the air and watched as she turned and began walking into the living room. I followed behind her, and with each step, her movements seemed to get easier.
Nana unlocked the front door, opened it, and lifted her face to the sun as she breathed in a lungful of air. I walked beside her as she stepped onto the front porch and took a seat under her covered table.
Smiling up at me, she insisted, “Shoo. You’ve got work to do, and I need to work on my tan.”
I shook my head and began to walk down the stairs toward my truck. Just as I was about to open the door, she yelled across the yard. “You need to think about finding yourself a wife and settling down. No one wants a forty-year-old bachelor.”
I gave her a deadpanned expression, and she just smiled brightly across the yard while I climbed into the truck and cranked it up. It was a pleasant day, and I had left the window down, so when I rested my forearm on the doorframe and put the truck in reverse, I was able to yell out at her.
“No one wants to marry an asshole like me, Nana.”
Just as I was about to pull out of hearing range, she yelled back, “You’re not your father, Lincoln, and it’s time you start to believe what we all know. You’re a good man.”
Her words struck me in the chest and were more accurate than she could’ve ever imagined.
I feared becoming my father on so many levels, it was frightening. I worried about becoming an alcoholic, so I cut myself off after two drinks, and never more than three nights a week. Yes, I smoked weed, but most people did, and that was never an issue for me. I worked my ass off, had made smart investments, and with the money left from my parents’ deaths, I was pretty much set for the rest of my life.
But what I feared was my temper and the inability to open myself up to anyone. Nobody wanted to deal with a closed-off person who may or may not fly off the handle when an argument arose. And I didn’t want to project my family’s drama and my issues onto anyone else. So, I remained single.
As I left Nana’s little neighborhood on the edge of Rapid City, I thought about what my life would be like if I opened my heart up and let someone see the darkness that resided inside. Would they still stand beside me, or would they run away? Could I trust someone with my pain and fears, or would they use them against me?
Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, I traversed the streets leading to the ranch and began to go over what needed to be done before we could head over to the auction tonight. Keeping busy allowed me to think about something other than how lonely I was most nights, or how a certain little warrior had caught my eye.
Jackie, Cheyenne’s cousin who was married to Roughstock, was the one who first discovered something was going on inside the confines of the reservation, and it was her photos that led Nitro down the path that resulted in his death. It wasn’t her fault, though she had blamed herself for a while.
She was beautiful, at least five years younger than my thirty-six years, and still carefree. Her heart was pure, her intentions were honorable, and her hypnotic eyes called to me whenever she was around. They were the shade of the leaves that changed colors before the harsh winter overtook the Dakotas, a combination of brown and an almost-yellow ring around the center that made them glow.
I felt her gaze on me over the last few months, and I always made a point to avoid her. She needed to look elsewhere, because if I ever got a taste of her, I’d probably be selfish and keep her forever.
Someone like me wasn’t good for someone like her. Jackie needed someone who could love her the right way. I didn’t even like myself, so how could I ever love anyone else?